


burning wings

by iwillwalk500miles



Category: Fallout (Video Games)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Love Confessions, Mild Blood, Names, Near Death Experiences, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, but like literal hurt, i can't believe i just made piper so fucking in love with the sole survivor lmaoo, kissing after near death experiences, there is no violence!!! but obviously sole gets pretty roughed up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25909414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillwalk500miles/pseuds/iwillwalk500miles
Summary: She’d said it over and over again to anyone who’d listen, how much she disliked the name she was born with, looked upon over the angel of death as though it was some big honor. (“She wasn’t even religious, Pipes, despised the church from it’s steeple to it’s steps.”) How Blue hated the name Azrael, how she hated how she could not find it in herself to let it go.Privately, Piper thought it suited her. Divinity born in the body of a woman, out of time with ice slipping from her skin like holy water, caked in loss and death and so obviously in love with a world that had faded long ago. She could start a religion, if she wanted, could start a cult that would worship the ground that Blue walked on.It fit her like a glove, the name Azrael, long since bullied into submission by the woman it belonged to. It would make sense, Piper thinks, if this woman with her charisma and her sheer determination to beat odds stacked against her a million to one—if this woman with her hands drenched in righteous blood were to call upon worshipers like the acolytes of Atom, were to call upon those who were so desperate for a bit of faith.
Relationships: Female Sole Survivor/Piper Wright
Comments: 12
Kudos: 53





	burning wings

**Author's Note:**

> uh oh guys, there's a bit of religious shit in this one, seriously the sole survivor's name is legit azrael
> 
> god i love piper so much and i'm just.... so emotional i just love her

The first time Piper kisses Blue, she tastes like blood.

She doesn’t mean to do it, exactly, but Blue had just been lying there—practically ready to keel over, and Piper panics. She drags her away from the middle of the street, pulling her into an unoccupied Red Rocket and propping her against the wall to dig around for bandages. She finds some, but then Blue starts to move; dark eyes fluttering open and mouth agape as the sounds of heavy breathing fill the room.

She had already given herself some stimpacks, Piper realizes, and almost cries out in relief. She’s surging forward suddenly, reaching, reaching, _reaching_ —Blue’s tanned cheeks were cradled in her gloved hands, tears in her eyes as she gazes upon her—injured and beaten and _beaming._ A shaky hand reaches up, yanking Piper’s hat over her eyes, _please don’t look_ , Blue whispers through her smile, _please don’t look please—_

And Piper doesn’t know if she kisses her to make her shut up or if because she’s relieved that she’s there, alive as can be. It’s a stupid decision, for one thing, because Blue is still injured, she can’t pull away and there was a great possibility that Piper had only aggravated her wounds. It hits her a second into the kiss, that she shouldn’t have done that, that Blue was _hurt._

White hot shame curls around her heart, and when she pulls away Blue’s eyes are on hers. There were a hundred things that Blue could say, a hundred angry or disappointed or sad words, but all she does is grab Piper’s face and whisper, _Don’t look._

Piper draws her closer to her chest, her eyes shut closed, and murmurs her affirmations over and over again. Promising quietly that she would not look, her eyes would not drift down her vault suit to the gaping wound in her stomach that stimpacks are slowly going to heal. No enemies surround them, Dogmeat guarding them, alert and watchful and wary. Remnants of ghouls surround the outside of the gas station, torn to pieces or blasted to oblivion, the foul stench of rotting flesh and the prickly feeling of radiation washing over them.

“Blue.” Piper mutters. “Blue, Blue, Blue—”

It’s not the first time that Blue has done something so foolhardy.

She felt like every time they skipped out into the commonwealth Blue was throwing herself in front of some new enemy, bullets or blades or bats ( _“Bats, Pipes, not swatters—they’re called bats!”_ ) so reckless, her friend, so heart wrenchingly brave. Piper could look away from Blue for two seconds and find her doing something stupid, not thinking for a moment before reaching out to help, to interject, to _kill_. 

Blue, for all her love and the size of her heart, was a being of death.

It clung to her like a second skin, more apart of her than that stupid vault suit she so rarely took off. Every palm she extended to another was caked in the blood of those who dared stand against her—human and non-human alike. 

“Aw, Pipes.” She responds, voice raspy and weak. “You worried about little old me?”

_Stupid, Blue._ Piper thinks. Of course she’s worried, this idiot, this stupid, stupid woman had leaped in front of a _glowing one_ like it was nothing, like taking a hit meant for Piper was _nothing._ It enraged her, it made her so very angry how Blue could leap into the line of fire for those she thought needed it, it made her livid just as much as it amazed her. (And she wishes she hadn’t sworn to keep her eyes closed as the urge to start cussing overwhelms her.) _Stupid vault dweller, stupid, stupid, stupid—_

“Why did you do that?” She asks her quietly, and even though her blood is boiling she can’t yell, can’t make her voice any louder than it needs to be. Not to Blue, not about something like this. “That was... that was so, so—”

“You can call me stupid, Freckles.” Blue grunts out, and Piper feels a hand cover her eyes, accidentally sending her cap sprawling onto the ground. “I mean, it’s the truth so it’s not like I’d fault you.”

“Blue—”

“Have I ever told you how much I _adore_ that nickname?” Blue sighs out, her voice a wistful thing. “My real name _sucks,_ babe, like it totally _blows_ —my ma’ must’ve been on one. Always went by my last name, ‘cause of that—it’s Gonzalez if you wanted to know, have I told you that yet? I don’t think I have, I mean I constantly whine about my first name but I don’t think I’ve mentioned—”

And Piper wants to burst into laughter as well as tears.

_Oh, my Azrael._ She thinks. _Oh, my Blue._

She’d said it over and over again to anyone who’d listen, how much she disliked the name she was born with, looked upon over the angel of death as though it was some big honor. ( _“She wasn’t even religious, Pipes, despised the church from it’s steeple to it’s steps.”_ ) How Blue hated the name Azrael, how she hated how she could not find it in herself to let it go.

Privately, Piper thought it suited her. Divinity born in the body of a woman, out of time with ice slipping from her skin like holy water, caked in loss and death and so obviously in love with a world that had faded long ago. She could start a religion, if she wanted, could start a cult that would worship the ground that Blue walked on.

It fit her like a glove, the name Azrael, long since bullied into submission by the woman it belonged to. It would make sense, Piper thinks, if this woman with her charisma and her sheer determination to beat odds stacked against her a million to one—if this woman with her hands drenched in righteous blood were to call upon worshipers like the acolytes of Atom, were to call upon those who were so desperate for a bit of faith.

But Blue (because she was _Blue_ first and foremost, Azrael might fit her better than that silly old nickname ever would, but _‘Blue’_ was the name that she had chosen, and who was Piper to strip the choice from her?) would never do that. Because as divine as she was, because even though God lived in the curve of her mouth and cheekbones, the shape of her eyes—even as divinity glinted sharply in every smile and frown—Blue would dare not call herself the daughter of a cross long since burned.

She’d never listened to Pastor Clements sermons, hadn’t given it a second thought—mind consumed by worries of day to day life—but she’d overheard enough to understand offhand remarks that Blue would make. 

(And Piper, so desperate to understand, would not admit to borrowing the bible from the good Pastor just to see what Blue means sometimes.)

Piper leans down into Blue’s hand until she drops it, until their foreheads are brushing up against each other, and she hears the way that Blue stutters to a stop; her breath escaping her a bit louder than before. Piper had never been good with that physical intimacy kind of crap, not with anyone other than Nat, and Nat was _Nat_ —her kid sister who liked to pretend she was too old for things like hugs.

“Jeez, you’re _such_ a motormouth.” Piper whispers quietly, “It only gets worse with more stimpacks.”

Blue is quiet for a good long moment, and it sends waves of fear down her spine—only alleviated by the soft puffs of air brushing against her cheeks as proof that the other woman was breathing. “I’m sorry, Pipes.”

The worst part is that Piper knows that she is, she knows it like she knows she loves Nat, loves the paper—Piper knows that Blue would apologize for every act of selflessness she made. She’d say _sorry_ until she was blue in the face, pun not intended.

“Don’t be.” Piper breaths, a little desperate. “Don’t be sorry for being hurt.”

“But—”

“ _Don’t_.” She interjects sternly. “You should know better by now, Blue.”

Huffing laughter is her response. “C’mon, Piper, you and I both know I’ll never learn—that’s why you're here, to remind me of my dwindling mortality.”

“I’m glaring at you.” Piper says, her mouth pulling into a hard line. “But I have no idea if it’s coming across right because my eyes are closed.”

“Piper, dear.” Blue sighs out fondly, pressing a hand to her cheek, rubbing away a bit of dried blood and grime, a soft sigh escaping her mouth. A moment of that passes, just her and Blue there together, with her hand gently cupping her face. “Eh, I think it’s good now, better than before at least.”

Piper’s eyes hesitantly flutter open, eyes scanning her body for injuries. Something in her chest tears at the sight of her stomach, healed but caked in her own blood. She looks at Blue, scanning her further, finding that the hand that wasn’t pressed to her face was soaked in crimson.

“Oh, Blue.” Piper’s brow furrow, her mouth twisting. Blue is okay, she is healed, she is safe, and everything would be fine—but the sight of it all still makes her stomach churn. 

Blue frowns, her hand leaving her cheek to reach up and tug on a lock of Piper’s hair. “Don’t look at me like that.” She chastises, flicking her forehead and allowing her palm to drop back down. Their foreheads still touch, and Piper can’t find it in herself to pull away.

“You’re still so banged up.” She whispers quietly. “Blue, I’m so sorry—”

“None of that, Viper Piper, we both know you woulda’ done the same for me.” Blue grins, shooting her a wink, and it’s charming enough for Piper to forget the absolutely terrible nickname. The scar that goes through the right side of her mouth contorts with Blue’s smile, and Piper has to fight the urge to reach out and touch it. “We don’t tolerate hypocrisy in this house.”

“I’m the worst hypocrite in the world when it comes to you, doll, thought you knew that by now.” Piper says, jabbing Blue lightly in the shoulder. She finally finds the strength to pull away, though not by much—her arms still wrapped around her shoulder and waist. “Besides, we’re in a Red Rocket, no house in sight.”

Blue, in an action of total maturity, sticks her tongue out at her. “Not true! My cousin used to live right across the street from here.” She jerks her chin toward the window, gesturing to one of the buildings.

“Oh.” Piper blinks.

“Mhmm.” Blue nods, a smug look on her face—as though the fact that Piper had been wrong was very important to her. “Already checked it out though, everything of his is long gone.”

“I’m sorry.” She says after a moment.

Blue snorts, shrugging and flicking Piper in the chin the way she does when she's trying to get her to smile. “Eh, it’s fine, Rogelio was a dick, anyway.”

Piper laughs even though she isn’t sure she’s supposed to, but Blue grins even wider, so she guesses it was the right thing. “Oh, Blue.” She murmurs fondly, reaching out and brushing a wavy lock of hair from her face. “Whatever would I do without you?”

The way Blue stares at her, in that moment, her eyes soft and mouth pursed, as though looking at Piper was something that deserved to be looked at. “This might just be the stims talking, but I’m like eighty percent sure you kissed me.” Blue’s voice comes out in a whisper, like she can’t quite bear to part with the information, like she’s afraid of what might happen after.

“Yeah I... yeah.” Piper finishes lamely, averting her gaze. She moves to settle Blue back onto the wall, to pull away so that they didn’t have to be so close—but Piper finds that Blue only grips her tighter, refusing to let her go. “I’m sorry, Blue, that was a shitty thing to do—”

“Well I mean, I liked it.” Blue interrupts her, a little loudly—blurting out the words on accident. Her cheeks go dark when Piper stares down at her in pure astonishment. “Thought it was nice.” She murmurs, voice a little muffled as she looks away. “The whole two seconds it lasted, anyway.”

“You—I— _what?_ ” Piper stutters out, her brain short circuiting as she struggles to keep from gaping.

“I. Liked. It.” Blue says to her, enunciating every word with a sharp poke to Piper’s chest. “Look, Pipes, I get it if it was a spur of the moment thing, God knows how many times Cait’s gone in for a smooch—”

“What?” Piper’s voice cracks.

“—but as good as Cait is at kissing, and boy _wowza_ , I actually like-like you, got me?” Blue finishes, and her face is serious—if a little embarrassed. 

“Like-like?” She squeaked, and her hands are shaking so badly that Blue actually looks a little worried. “That... _What_?”

Blue stares at her like she had just said the strangest thing in the world. She laughs, but its a hesitant sound, nothing like usual. “What, is that honestly such a surprise?”

Piper stares for a moment, and though they are physically close, she can’t help but feel far away. It felt too good to be true, that someone like her would want to be with someone like _Piper._ Had she not been paying attention to literally everything that Piper had said and done? All the foot in her mouth moments, the fumbling and the talking and the just _everything_?

How could she see something worth holding onto like _that_ in _her_?

“Blue, I’m _me—_ impulsive, I overestimate myself _constantly_ , and I'm too loud and too _much_ —I’m the nosy reporter, remember?” And she didn’t fail to notice how desperate the words seemed to be coming out of her mouth. “Didn’t you hate reporters before?”

Blue had told her that, with narrowed eyes, when they’d first met. Still, she’d stepped in between her and the mayor, because she’d seen something in McDonough that she hadn’t liked, because even if she disliked reporters she disliked corrupt mayors more. ( _“Always believed in freedom of the press.” Blue had said, eyes narrowed, a nasty slash on her cheek that only added to her intimidation. Her eyes were fixed on the mayor, predatory and intense in a way that made Piper freeze in her coat._ )

Blue stared at her now, so different than the first time she’d met her. She’d been intimidating for two whole minutes before she was bubbly and cheerful again, not mentioning her apparent disdain for reporters again.

“Because by the time I got around to paying attention to them I noticed that most of ‘em had stopped reporting the truth.” She whispered to Piper softly, reaching up, tugging on a lock of Piper’s hair again. Her actions were jerky, desperate—and for the first time recognized it for the odd little nervous quirk it was. “But you’re _you_ —I mean, you want people to know because they deserve it, because you want them to understand what’s dangerous and warn them.”

She softened. “Blue—”

“Piper.” Was the gentle interruption. Blue pulled away from her slightly, sitting up and sliding a little away from her. The distance felt more like miles than inches. “I care about you, alright? A lot...” She trailed off, letting out a shaky little laugh that rattled Piper’s bones. “I just, I just thought you should know that before you decide anything.”

“Oh, Blue.” Piper used to look at Blue and think she was unattainable, as hard to reach as the heavens; but now, with her looking at Piper like _that_ —like she wanted to hold her and never let go. She reached out, grasping her hand in hers, ignoring the way Blue squeezed her back a little desperately. “This is not at all a conversation to be having out here, y’know.” Piper murmurs. “Usually you wait till you're completely out of the woods to start wooing a gal.”

Blue throws her head back and laughs, and Piper trails the moles on her skin that lead like a staircase from up her jawline to down below the collar of her vault suit. She ached to trace them with her fingers, to tug on the leather and pull Blue closer—just closer, she needed nothing, only yearned to exist in the same place as her.

That was what Blue was offering, wasn’t it? A chance to be something more with her, a chance to breathe each other in, to worship the other’s alter. Piper had never been religious, no siree, but she could see the divinity in the line of Blue’s shoulders, the slope of her neck, and her carefully molded jawline. 

If she wasn’t going to worship God, she could at least worship one of his creations.

There’s a look in Blue’s eyes now, one that she can’t identify, but it’s knowing—that knowing look she gets in her eyes whenever she says something that calms an enemy, soothes a friend; the twinkle that means she’s read your mind.

“You...” And Blue shakes her head, mouth pulling into that too bright too crooked smile of hers. “You can call me Azrael, if you want to.” It comes out softly, almost in an embarrassed whisper—as though even if Blue meant to say it she didn't mean for Piper to hear it. “It’s... It’s something I’d like for you to do, every once in a while, if you wanted.”

“I do.” Piper said without skipping a beat, because anything this woman asked of her she might just find herself giving into. “But I thought you hated it, huh, Blue?”

“Sometimes.” Blue admits to her softly, like it’s a secret even though she’d practically shouted it from the rooftops every chance she got. “There are times though... times where it hits me that there’s no one left to say it.” ( _“Everyone I love is dead, all except for my boy, I’m going to find my boy if it’s the last thing I ever do, by God I swear it—"_ )

Her heart stops, just for a moment, at the implications of what had just been said to her. She can’t... She draws conclusions for a living, thinks outside the box and puts together pieces more often than anything else in the world. Those words, those words sound an whole lot like a confession of more than fondness, more than like-like, the sound like... they sound like—

“I—Blue.” She says, a little helplessly—like she can’t believe what just happened, the ideas she’d just pieced together. _What comes next?_ She wonders. _What comes next after I tell her I love her too?_

“Piper.” And it isn’t begging, because Blue doesn’t beg, but it’s something awful close.

“ _Azrael_.” Piper gasps out, a confession of love, and then she’s being kissed.

**Author's Note:**

> i miss piper wright so much...
> 
> i might make this a series or a full fic yet, idk—but it was piper wright loving hours so i popped this out tonight and now i have too much energy to sleep smh
> 
> and dogmeat was totally just sitting in the doorway waiting for the useless gays to stop being so useless, pour one out for the best boy literally just vibing while azrael and piper make out


End file.
